


merry-go-round of life

by Background_Character



Series: "I call arson a career!" [7]
Category: Bleach, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Midoriya Izuku, Gen, I can't believe it's not crack!, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Midoriya Izuku is Quite Literally Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Character/pseuds/Background_Character
Summary: Midoriya Izuku was dead.
Series: "I call arson a career!" [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1072749
Comments: 1
Kudos: 98





	merry-go-round of life

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all should know where the title came from. (That's right, Howl's Moving Castle, sue me.)
> 
> \- I've had the idea behind this crossover fic for a long time now, I just never got round to writing it down. So here it is: something weird but not tagged as crack.  
> \- I haven't used past tense much until recently (I'm experimenting) so, please, tell me if it flowed all right.

Midoriya Izuku was alive. 

He came to when the sun began its descent, turning the sky into a bright canvas of reds, pinks and oranges. His body felt heavy as he sat up and looked around. Izuku was behind the school building, near the incinerators, where the weeds were overgrown and a few trees also stood untamed, a place which he'd only visit when he was on cleaning duty.

Midoriya Izuku was alive.

He wondered what he was doing there, sitting in the dirt empty of emotion. There was no pain, no headache, no injuries—nothing. The boy had thrown himself off the school rooftop as it was kindly suggested to him and was left completely unscathed by the ordeal. Even his uniform was unwrinkled, cleaner than it'd ever been in its lifetime. 

Izuku got to his feet and started the journey home, not realising he'd left the most important thing behind: his body. 

He did not also realise that as the sun went down further, his uniform melded into attire of an old age within the shadows, waning in the air, a black ghost at his heels; his shoes were replaced by straw sandals and the socks he wore all but disappeared, he didn't realise this change until he passed a window display of All Might paraphernalia. First he saw the hero's face brandished across a new lineup of merchandise, including products endorsed by the hero himself, and then he saw it. The tantō hanging from his side. 

His loud screech of shock went unnoticed by the people milling about and going about their lives, all whilst Izuku was on the verge of a breakdown. 

He didn't know where the weapon came from or how he had acquired it. But his new clothes felt right, oddly. Brushing off the strange sensation in his chest, he undid the bindings which kept the tantō attached to his person and hid it in one of his sleeves, now loose enough to accommodate an item of such length without it being too awkward on his gait. Onward the boy went, taking in the world around him, a sight he saw nearly everyday. But still it shocked him how humans could become so fixated on particular figures, worship the ground they walked upon and devote an entire lifetime's savings to them.

Izuku thought of the things he owned, displayed proudly in his room. 

He didn't need them, not anymore, not after failing to kill himself. He decided that when he returned home, everything would be packed away. He would forget about his dream of becoming a hero and he would... he would go from there. 

Midoriya Izuku was alive.

That's when the first scream reached his ears.

He reacted on instinct, that's what he'll tell himself later. It was instinct to turn on his heel and run towards the source of potential danger, to remove the tantō from his sleeve, drawing the blade from the sheath. Instinct made him react the way he did: facing down the monstrous thing with teeth for eyes and blood dripping down the white visage that greeted him, snarling. In the monster's hand there was a small child no older than four screaming their heart out, begging for someone to come save them. They were missing a leg.

Passers-by didn't bat an eye at the scene.

There was no one but him who heard the child in distress. Quirkless, useless Izuku.

_Instinct._

The boy howled something back at the monster— _a verse, a name, something he'd never heard of before_ —and tore off an arm of the monster's, releasing the child from its clutches.

The confrontation became a blur, all he knew was indisputable rage. His throat turned dry and he was bathed in the monster's ichor; the child, long forgotten, having taken the hint to make their escape, fled into the crowded streets, back towards the light. Something inside Izuku had snapped. His failed attempt, the monster and the child, the ignorance of the people—it was like a tidal wave bursting through the floodgates his mind had constructed.

The monster, the _Hollow_ , put up a valiant effort against his wild rampage but it was futile.

Midoriya Izuku was dead.

He had been for a very long time. He was an old soul, so ancient and bright, sent from beyond the afterlife, his only master a deity bound forever to their throne.

He was sent to the Human World on the eve of tumultuous days to come, where a human in China was born the vessel of a soul not originating from the great flow. His master wanted him to investigate the cause, see if it could be prevented from occurring further. But someone had caught wind of his master's intention and saw fit to dispose of Izuku. He couldn't allow that to happen, so with ragged breath he made a request of the Soul King, the first ever in an aeon, asking that he be stowed inside a temporary vessel to avoid immediate seizure.

To be human was to err, he was informed by his master. And thus his request was granted.

Midoriya Izuku had been human once.

The second time round, things were different. The world of the living had changed drastically since his last (true) breath was drawn. His master brought him back many years after he was initially given his task and more parasitic souls than normal roamed the plane, hindering his progress.

Midoriya Izuku, sole agent of the Soul King, saw this as a failure on his part. If only he had held out a while longer, restrained his selfishness and reduced the number of obstacles in his path to none, the Human World would be, certainly, a different landscape. Fool, he called himself. Feeble and pitiful. Wallowing in this regret, he buried his heart deep inside the vessel he'd been given by divine edict, vowing there would come a day the one responsible for forcing him to make his sacrilegious appeal will rue.

The Hollow moving on its last legs gave out a mournful cry as he grasped onto the white mask and rent the corrupted soul's head in two, part of him savagely gleeful.

He watched the poor thing wither away. 

The boy cleaned the ichor from his face and flicked his wrist, the edges of his tantō unstained. He greeted his old friend with an apology. The weapon was sheathed and attached back to his side, the weight of it now familiar. He left the alleyway quieter than he arrived, sandals scuffing the concrete, the full moon rising overhead a foreboding presence.

Wings fluttering delicately, a butterfly flew past and bequeathed him a welcoming message.

“It's good to be back,” he said aloud, solemn.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I made Izuku a Shinigami. He's a bit rough around the edges, but I like this version of him.
> 
> \- Unedited.


End file.
